And she hated flying out into the full glare of the sun.
"But there is such a thing, you know, as being a bit too calm and
self-possessed. As the hay got higher up in the mow, beyond the eaves,
and almost up to the level of the topmost beam, one of the farm hands
noticed the little bat hanging under the ridgepole. He was one of
those dull fools, not cruel at heart, perhaps, but utterly without
imagination, who, if they see something interesting, are apt to kill it
just because they don't know any other way to show their interest. He
up with the handle of his pitchfork and knocked the poor little mother
bat far out into the stubble."
"_Oh_!" cried the Child. "Didn't it hurt her _dreadfully_?"
"It killed her," replied Uncle Andy simply. "But by chance it didn't
hurt Little Silk Wing himself, as he clung desperately to her neck.
The children, with cries of sympathy and reprobation, rushed to pick up
the little dark body. But the black-and-white dog was ahead of them.
He raced in and snatched the queer thing up, gently enough, in his
teeth. But he let it drop again at once in huge surprise. It had come
apart. All of a sudden it was two bats instead of one. He couldn't
understand it at all.
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